Now what.

Someone made me realize that I hadn't really thought about the end of it. Sure talk to neighbors after family, but how many people do I want to talk to about icky past before I know enough or even what I want from it. I've been pondering getting info from others for quite some time and never dared until now. It's just that I felt time was running out and if I wanted to get other views I had to do that before they were either dead or their brains had turned to mud like my fathers. I didn't want to give myself time to think it all through to not end up in metameta justifications why I think I have to do this. (Ya, I finally got to this draft I had lying about for months and no clue why I never posted it or even how to finish, so I just sneak it in here now.)


But now what. Uncle was looking ahead while I was still dwelling in the past and how to get it sorted. And I still am. He wanted to know what plans for the future I had. What would I be. What did I want. And I don't know. The future scares me. I simply can't look past the time where kiddo won't force me into a daily routine anymore. It's empty (yes, I'm already pondering pets for that time). Just me. A freedom I can't imagine. He said they had all imagined I would become a writer. Had they now? I wanted to not be there at that moment. Oh gawd, expectations. I can never live with that. I can never make any expectation true. Also too much now. Can't keep track of anything. I just don't know.